Vacancy

The dial tone is flat like a strip of gray road.

I’m sitting in the heat where the upholstery showed

a tear in the fabric, a gap in the seam.

The engine is clicking, releasing its steam.

He gave me a list of the motels in town,

while the sun beat the roof of my Honda down.

The steering wheel sticks to the skin of my palm,

a quiet, hot sort of desperate calm.